


Someone To Dream Of

by Ad_Absurdum



Category: Music RPF, Real Person Fiction, The Smiths
Genre: M/M, Personality Split, Weirdness, no Original Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:23:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Absurdum/pseuds/Ad_Absurdum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had to be a dream because here he was, jostled by his fellow fans, but no more than a yard from the stage, and his angel, his heart's desire, his everything was looking right at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone To Dream Of

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Inspired by the footage from the legendary and until-now never seen on film Morrissey/The Smiths 1988 Wolverhampton gig (if there's a soul that hasn't seen it yet, it's [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=azmOjnTg3Zg)) because I watch things and then I start thinking and it's never a good combination. Well, have a bit of self-indulgent purple prose, then :)
> 
> Title is taken from a song by The Popguns, from their album _Love Junky_.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Never happened. All slander and lies.

It had to be a dream. It _had_ to be a dream because here he was, jostled by his fellow fans, but no more than a yard from the stage, and his angel, his heart's desire, his everything was looking right at him. And smiling.

He stared entranced at the gentle curve of those perfect lips, at those green eyes that seemed to single him out of the surrounding crowd, at the elegantly shaped arch of the eyebrows any girl would envy.

Eyebrows that were raised evidently in amusement directed at him.

He knew he was blushing, but refused that to embarrass him. And in those flashing lights the blush was probably invisible anyway.

His beloved's eyes swept past him to look at the rest of the audience and he could breathe again. He anew became conscious of jostling, shouting and chanting of the people around him.

"Morrissey, Morrissey, Morrissey, Morrissey, Mo-rri-ssey!"

He curled his lip in distaste. Who cared about the singer anyway?

And those fools rushing on stage to squeeze or kiss the _saint_ Morrissey. So blind, so typical. What about the rest? He didn't care much for Craig, but he'd bet Mike's never got hugged on stage in his life. And his beloved? Only occasionally and not nearly as much as he deserved.

He blinked. Well... he could certainly do something about it. Right now, in fact.

Everyone used mostly either left or right side of the stage to get to Morrissey because the centre was pretty much blocked by the speakers. And he so conveniently stood on the far left, right where he knew his beloved would be. And there really was no question about it, he just had to get the timing right.

He moved towards the stage, pushing his way through the mass of people. He had to give justice to Morrissey's fans, though - they all understood his need to get closer.

And so, after less struggling than he anticipated, he reached the stage. Then he only had to pull himself up and there he was. And the timing _was_ right: two other fans were running towards the singer and the security rushed after them. Perfect.

He quickly picked his way around an amp and a cameraman who was focussed on the commotion in the centre of the stage. And his beloved was right here, his back so close he could touch him. And so, he finally did.

There was really no other way to hug someone with a guitar except to do it from behind so he tentatively put his hands on his beloved's hips, pressed himself against his back and closed his eyes.

The solidity of the situation was unreal - his beloved no longer a phantasm he secretly longed for, but a warm body in his arms.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw no surprise on his beloved's face as he half-turned, that small smile still playing around his lovely mouth. Almost like he'd been waiting for him.

He gasped, lowering his head to his beloved's shoulder, turning his face into his neck so he could inhale his beloved's scent. And then he just couldn't help himself - he kissed the skin beneath his lips.

And froze frightened. Was this too much? a transgression for which he was going to be pushed away?

But no. He could scarcely believe it, but his beloved tilted his head, exposing the graceful arch of his neck, inviting further touches.

How could he refuse? He placed another delicate kiss in the same spot, his breath picking up slightly at being allowed such a pleasure. The another kiss, higher up that perfect neck, and another just below the fragile shell of his beloved's ear.

And his beloved accepted all that and then leant into him! Without missing a note, he was wordlessly letting him know he liked the caresses.

This knowledge was thrilling. Arousing.

He tenderly kissed the rim of his beloved's ear and then traced it with his tongue. He was getting hard and was completely powerless to prevent it. It was so crude, so embarrassing, but inevitable really. After all, he was pressed so intimately against his beloved's body.

At leat his beloved didn't seem to mind, even though he certainly must have noticed.

He was kissing his beloved's throat again when he felt a slight shift of the denim-clad hips beneath his hands.

Oh no. He closed his eyes, trying to control his body. He couldn't possibly...

His beloved didn't stop, though. There was another twist and press of those hips and he could feel it - he was going to...

He bit his lip, but it was hopeless.

He was... He was...

Oh...

"Andy!"

Morrissey's cry echoed in his bedroom as his hips pressed into the mattress, the last spasms of his orgasm wrenching a moan out of him.

He blinked, panting harshly into his pillow and feeling the disorientating sensation of coming back to reality.

And then a warm stickiness in his pyjama trousers. He grimaced and got up to wash.

In the bathroom he didn't dare to look into the mirror. He risked a glance when he cleaned up, changed and felt presentable enough to face himself again. He was surprised by the feverish glint in his eyes and reddened cheeks.

He touched his stubbly chin and then his neck, remembering all the places where he kissed his belo-- _Andy_.

He shivered and closed his eyes, frowning. It was time for the truth.

"You are going mad. Completely mad, Steven," he said, opening his eyes again.

His reflection stared dispassionately back at him, silently agreeing.


End file.
